


The Crow

by Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia/pseuds/Layla_Morrigan_Aspasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Never combine our own duty with feelings.”<br/>"Assassination isn't so cruel as people want to believe. [...] Assassination is like sex, a climax..."</p>
<p>This is Zevran, in five short portraits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crow

**The Crow.**

 

**Duty.**

 

“Never combine our own duty with feelings.”

He knew very well the meaning of those words as they became his personal dogma.

He was hesitating, closing his hands tightly, his fists were trembling.

The flow of his thoughts was full of questions, the answers ignored.

“How she could betray us... betray _me_?” he asked to himself.

Killing her was the only right solution; while his mind was totally aware about that, his heart wished there was another way of acting.

Taliesen's words echoed into his soul and he started to side with him.

«Enough! She sold us» he snarled with anger.

He really would have canceled love from his flesh and bones; he would have been able.

 

**Wound.**

 

«All of us got a second chance, somehow or other, I suppose. Mine came when I became a Grey Warden, so... why don't we give a new occasion to him?

We fight much more enemies now and I will be glad if once sparing a life brings right instead of cut down it.»

«I'm not sure...» he complained.

«If you want, Alistair, see this point: he can be _useful_. We need another person with good fighting skills; he's good at using weapons.»

Zevran listened to the whole conversation, pretending to be stunned even now.

An invisible wound opened: that was _pity_ , the same pity he couldn't give.

The same pity he didn't believe to deserve.

 

**Assassin**.

 

«Assassination isn't so cruel as people want to believe. Power, money, love... there are lots of reasons behind a murder.

However, the palpable pleasure of murdering is often withheld.

Assassination is like sex, a climax: it starts with hunting the pray – that is foreplay – and it ends – like an orgasm – with the victim no more alive, collapsed on the ground.»

Zevran always felt that shivers running down his spine, thinking about how could be tasting every emotion intensely.

As each instant could be the last one.

Even in that moment, telling this _theory_ to Sheridan, the Warden, Zevran could feel those positive tremblings.

Sheridan listened to him, interested, no judgments given.

He was pleasantly surprised.

 

**Respect.**

 

Everyone in the party thought Zevran would betray them at the first opportunity.

Zevran saw evil eyes on him; people despise him, doubting about his loyalty.

“I don't blame them” he said to himself “it isn't their fault.”

During missions, he moved forward new _companions_ ' questions and teasing, nonchalantly.

In the camp, Sheridan, however, asked about him, about Antiva; she really seemed inclined to interact with him.

She seemed inclined to _trust_ him.

He was curious about her reaction of a hypothetical treason.

«You deserve my respect, like the others, we are all equals» she replied «but if it happens I'll kill you with my own hands» also remarked.

He liked the answer and smiled, sincerely grateful.

 

**Wrath.**

 

He saw the Warden yelling – once more – against Alistair and he snickered.

Since he was admitted to the party, Zevran noticed the bad blood between Sheridan and that _moron_ , as Morrigan and Sheridan always say.

They had argued also when she cured him, after that disastrous ambush.

He thought – being wrong – Alistair and Sheridan making peace _by night_ ; perhaps she ruled even _going to bed_.

As usual, she would have taken a bath in the lake near the camp, in order to calm herself down.

Zevran was waiting, bewitching, for her return in camp.

He desired burning out the Warden's flames of wrath; Sheridan would have left _anger signs_ on his body, firing up the passion.


End file.
